


For Now

by Darth_Videtur



Series: Master and Apprentice [11]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types
Genre: Ambassador Palpatine, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Manipulation on all sides, Master/Apprentice, Sith Lord Love-Hate Relationship, Sith are seriously messed up, Slash, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 06:52:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6319030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darth_Videtur/pseuds/Darth_Videtur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ambassador Palpatine is on a fast track to become the next senator of Naboo. The Grand Plan is going well. But his alter ego still exists in a state of limbo when his master takes an interest in him. Sith Slash. Told from Plagueis's point of view, second person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Now

The boy’s body is pleasing to the eye and delicious to the taste, but he isn’t truly a boy any longer. The boy slipped away almost a decade ago, and you’ve memorized the slow transitions of his body. Though he is still young, a man’s muscles, honed by years of brutal training, line the slender bones; a man’s groans, deeper than before, echo around the chamber when you slide your lips down the sharply defined ridges of his shivering abdominal muscles. A man’s lean legs part under the force of your eager hands, pressed into sheets almost as silky as the pale skin that flushes under your fingertips. You catch a glimpse of golden eyes, so unlike the innocent pale blue when you first discovered his flesh, and they are fixed on your long face.

He hates you, though he hides it well.

The hatred, so pure and immensely satisfying, only serves to further ignite the pleasure in your blackened soul. You pull back for a moment to prolong his suffering, because you know he wants this over and done, he wants to be free to withdraw and forget you. He will never succeed in such a foolish mission.

Your long fingers trace over narrow hipbones, holding him in place on the firm mattress. Knowing your strength and your willingness to punish impudent behavior, he struggles only a little, token resistance at most. Does he know how much this excites you, to see and feel his body writhing under your grip? Probably not, or he wouldn’t give you the satisfaction. Perhaps he can’t help it; he has never enjoyed losing control to you, but you have never given him any other options.

You watch him closely, observing how he bites nervously at his thin lower lip when you look up, seeing how his muscles tense with barely perceptible apprehension as your gaze travels lower. A smile curling your lips, you let him see just how interested you are, boldly caressing him without ever touching, intimating a lover’s touch on stimulated skin. When he sees where your eyes linger now, a blush sears the pale skin of his cheeks and courses down over his thin chest. Years of your affection, and he still flinches with the power of your desire.

Intoxicating.

You pause for a moment, because here before you – limbs spread, throat bared, every secret revealed – lies the perfection of the human species. Perfection lies not in the overlarge nose or the soft red hair that fills your hands so easily. No. Perfection lies in the raw power contained in this fragile shell, power that answers to your call alone. Power that whimpers, wantonly and against its will, when you take your fill of it. Power that will eventually tear asunder the very foundations of this galaxy and flay open the darkest corners of the universe.

He is relaxing under your hands, sensing perhaps that you are distracted, that he will escape your full attention tonight. How wrong he is. Your thoughts have only served to increase the blinding lust for his power, for him, for his tight little human body that arches so beautifully under your probing caress. Your fingers tighten on his hips as you drop your heated gaze to the limp shaft between his legs. He is not aroused, not yet.  

That must change.

Your stare unsettles him, and his hands rise as though he means to cover himself. Fast as a Corellian serpent, you seize the thin wrists in your large hands and pin them to the bed. The message to him is rough. Clear. Do not hide what is rightfully yours to view, to enjoy, to use. Slowly, languorously, you transfer both wrists to your right hand and push them above his head, watching how his muscles strain with carefully hidden despair. The dark emotion only fires the passion flooding your veins.

Your other hand slides down the outer edge of his right hip onto the leg, ticking across the knee before beginning a slow journey along the soft inner thigh, easing closer to his manhood. It twitches when you circle the base with a feather touch.

You flick your eyes to his face and notice how his lips are parted, how his breath has suddenly hitched in his throat, how he is looking everywhere but at you even as he accepts the pleasure. That is not permissible. Is he regressing? Surging upwards, you cover his trembling lips with your own at the same time that you wrap your hand around his shaft and gently pump it, once, twice.

He mutters and growls something into your mouth, but you turn it into a shuddering gasp when your thumb rises to caress over the sensitive slit at the tip. He seeks to bite you, and you bite him instead, capturing his small tongue between your teeth and nipping hard enough to taste the tangy iron of his human blood. He moans then. The Dark shivers with his consuming hate.  

You release his lips and pull back, but your hand continues to rise and fall over his hardening member. His eyes close as his hips rise from the bed, and you shove him down ruthlessly. He will take only the pleasure you wish to provide, and nothing more. A soft groan slips from unsuspecting and clenched teeth. He will fight you to the bitter end without ever fully confronting you.

But there is no mercy here, and you possess a secret weapon, a failsafe against his youthful confidence. You pull on the full power of the darkness and all your arcane knowledge and send it seeping into the shaking limbs, a teasing offer of what he has always wanted. His arousal flames into frightening life at the immaterial touch, his own darkness reaching out to seize the moment, to take what is rightfully his, to tear it away from _you,_ momentarily forgetting his physical existence and leaving him vulnerable to your manipulation. To save yourself, your hand moves faster until he comes under you with a keening cry.

His assault on your authority dissipates as though it never existed.  For an immeasurable moment, the air itself breathes with moisture and carnal gratification and carefully measured loathing.

Your own breath is ragged from the sheer strength with which he suckled at your source of power. You watch his chest heaving for air, his eyes blazing with the unnatural strength of his convictions. He is both triumphant and violated, at once exuberant and raging in the Force. He lies limply under your much longer body, and you realize: it is dangerous to keep playing with this creature, to pretend that you will always be able to pull away and free yourself.  

Yet, a bolt of satisfaction curls deep in your chest. You’ve conquered this raw power.

For now.

A force of nature lies pliant under your hands, open to be molded and shaped however you desire.

For now.

He will learn from you.

For now.

How much longer, a voice whispers, perhaps the voice of your late master, weary with the all-knowledge of the Netherworlds. How much longer can you contain him before he destroys everything? Before he destroys _you?_

And then a low sigh draws you back, like a Geonosis moth to an open flame, and you go willingly enough, shaking away the hiss of warning. He will always belong to you.    

**Author's Note:**

> I think this belongs in the same universe as Breaking Breaking Broken, nearly a decade later shortly before Palpatine becomes a young Senator.


End file.
